


A Day In The Life

by Minnow_53



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Boys In Love, Fluff and Humor, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Marauders Era (Harry Potter)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-16
Updated: 2020-11-16
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:22:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27588779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Minnow_53/pseuds/Minnow_53
Summary: It’s October 13 1977, and Remus and Sirius live through a not-quite-typical day at school.
Relationships: Sirius Black/Remus Lupin
Comments: 2
Kudos: 42





	A Day In The Life

**Author's Note:**

> First published on LiveJournal 22/6/05. Thanks to Asterie for the beta.  
> The quotes at the beginning of each section are taken from the prospectus being drafted in the fic.

**7:00 am: Wake-Up Call**

_We encourage students to live by the precept, ‘Early to bed, and early to rise.’ (Hogwarts Prospectus, 1978)_

The bell rings, and Sirius Black hides under his covers and whimpers, ‘Make it go away, Moony!’

It’s the bloody crack of dawn! Why would anyone ring a sodding hand-bell at this hour?

Remus doesn’t hear him, of course. Though he spent most of the night in Sirius’s bed, his alarm went ages ago, and he’s already showered, dressed and checked his homework. He drops by to shake Sirius’s shoulder when the last echoes of the bell have died away, though, and says, ‘Time to get up, Padfoot.’

Sirius revives a bit at that and leers. ‘Get up, did you say?’ He lunges at Remus, but Remus is agile, and avoids being snogged half to death by a not-quite-awake Sirius. 

This lark/owl thing is a problem, actually. At night, when Sirius is full of beans and raring to go, Remus is yawning and rubbing his eyes. Sirius sometimes feels a bit guilty about having his wicked way with a boy who’s been known to fall asleep halfway through.

On Saturdays and Sundays, the bell doesn’t go till eight, and after breakfast, when their biorhythms are roughly in sync, they set off on very long walks. ‘Hikes,’ Peter says, rather enviously. He has his own rucksack, and sometimes hints that he’d like to join them. James, who is in love with Lily Evans and therefore more clued up about life, usually persuades him to choose some other activity.

Remus and Sirius may or may not spend the weekends kindling fires without magic, making landscape maps of the countryside round Hogsmeade, or even practising putting up a tent. Whatever the case, they usually get back to the castle very late and looking as if they’ve been getting plenty of exercise, with flushed cheeks and overly bright eyes. They must practise some form of survival technique, Peter thinks, because Sirius’s robe is often buttoned up wrong, and once Remus lost a shoe somewhere.

‘We were hiking on a really difficult trail,’ Sirius will tell him, and Peter is always impressed. 

**7:30 am: Breakfast**

_We provide three large, healthy meals every day, taking fully into account the nutritional needs of growing witches and wizards. (Hogwarts Prospectus, 1978)_

This isn’t the weekend, of course. It’s a Thursday in mid-October, the moon is just approaching the end of its second quarter, and it’s business as usual.

Or maybe not quite. Today, the school will be overrun with witches and wizards from the Ministry of Magic, taking notes and pictures for the new school prospectus. Fortunately, these scribes and photographers won’t be arriving until the first lesson, so nobody’s going to interrupt breakfast.

The food at the castle varies depending on the house-elves’ shifts. To be fair it’s always good, almost as good as the food the Blacks serve, Sirius thinks, but it does vary. Thursday is the day of excellent porridge, but the eggs are sometimes a fraction overdone, and the toast could be a shade darker. 

Some of the Gryffindor Seventh Year boys, including the Head Boy, don’t set a wonderful example at breakfast. it must be said. Remus usually gets down in time to have a good dollop of porridge with cream and honey. James and Peter are in time for the second round of porridge, but the cream jug has been spirited away, so they make do with milk and honey. ‘I don’t like cream anyway,’ Peter says: which is totally untrue, because all the Gryffindors have seen him drowning his food in it.

James is less philosophical. ‘Next time, save us a drop, will you, Moony?’

‘I tried,’ Remus says, ‘but the girls took it down their end, and then it disappeared. Sorry.’

By the time Sirius arrives, there’s only a few burnt bits of bacon left, which he chews gloomily. 

Remus always waits for him. He tries to save him a decent breakfast, but even the best porridge isn’t awfully good when it’s stone cold. McGonagall caught him performing a Warming Charm on it once, and told him off. ‘Either you and your friends are in time for a hot breakfast, Mr Lupin, or you just have to put up with it as it is.’ Remus relayed this to Sirius apologetically rather than resentfully, the sort of reason Sirius likes him so much.

Sirius gamely fills up on pumpkin juice and tea. He seems more concerned with finding out how much of Remus’s body space he can invade before one of the professors notices and stops him. He has a suspicion that the teachers may know anyway and be quite indulgent about them holding hands under the table, as long as they don’t try to hold anything else. 

**8:30 am: Preparation for School**

_After breakfast we give our students half an hour to make their beds and tidy their personal effects. We aim to make all Hogwarts pupils self-sufficient. (Hogwarts Prospectus, 1978)_

Sirius is running so late this Thursday that when he and Remus finally get up to the dorm the other two are already in the common room, sorting out their books for the day.

Remus does not miss lessons, full stop. But they have a few minutes before school, so he consents, as he quite often does, to lie down on Sirius’s unmade bed with him for a quick snog, on condition that he has plenty of time to pack his bag neatly afterwards.

Sometimes, they get a bit carried away, and are only brought back to reality by the gentle throat-clearing of the house-elves come to clean the dormitories. But not this morning: they kiss for a few minutes, then reluctantly pull apart and get on with their chores. Remus makes a mental note not to sleep in Sirius’s bed that night, because he hasn’t even attempted to tuck in the bedclothes, just flung the bedspread over it.

**9:00 am: Muggle Studies**

_We are delighted to offer this subject at NEWT level now. It is important for wizards to know something about the country we live in and its non-magical population. (Hogwarts Prospectus, 1978)_

Peter’s mother sent a scandalised letter to the school when Peter expressed an interest in the NEWT, and James Potter opted for Ancient Runes - ‘though it’s a pretty close thing which I hate more,’ he confided to Sirius.

So only Sirius and Remus are doing the subject for NEWT. It’s certainly not the soft option that some wizards, like the sneering Slytherins, think it is. Snape never misses an opportunity to make a nasty crack when he sees Remus and Sirius going into the Muggle Studies classroom: in fact, he hangs around deliberately, sometimes making himself late for extra Potions.

‘How’s the Mudblood lover this morning, then?’ is his greeting to Sirius.

Sirius ignores him. He and Remus push past and take their places at the front of the classroom.

Sirius would normally never sit anywhere but right at the back: he does have a reputation to uphold. But James isn’t in this class, and when they were choosing seats Remus was sweet and persuasive and promised him a blowjob at break, which was later spectacularly delivered. So front row it is, next to Lily Evans and Zoe Smith, whom the boys largely ignore.

The Muggle Studies NEWT hasn’t been on the curriculum for long, and the Headmaster is anxious to promote wizard/Muggle relations, so the prospectus is to include a special section about it.

Professor Jones is very excited at the prospect. ‘Good morning, class! Today, Hector and Cato from the Ministry of Magic will be joining us. They’ll be taking photographs and writing about us!’ He beams at the class. ‘I’m sure they’ll agree with me that you’re a wonderful group.’

Hector, the photographer, is especially pleased to see four attractive students in the front row, and snaps away as Remus ducks his head, blinded by the flash. He never understands why wizarding cameras are so basic, compared to the ones they learn about in Muggle Studies.

The current module is _Primary Education_. Quite a few of the students, including Remus, have actually experienced this, and have a grounding in arcane subjects like science, geography and maths. 

Sirius knows the history of his family back to prehistoric times almost – ‘Even the tyrannosaurs were terrified of the Blacks, Moony’ – but has never heard of WWII or contour lines or a quadratic equation; this is one of the few subjects in which he doesn’t always know more than everyone else. 

Professor Jones is taking the class back to basics today, and has handed out rainbow-coloured books randomly to the students.

‘The colours vary according to level,’ he explains to the visitors from the Ministry. ‘All the books feature two Muggle children, Janet and John.’

Wands are forbidden in Muggle Studies, but Sirius is very tempted to change his easy Yellow Reader into an advanced Green Reader, like Remus has.

To punish him, he reads his book just loudly enough so Remus can hear and be annoyed. Sirius finds it amusing to rename the two main characters Moony and Padfoot, which leaves him at a loss as to what to call the dog. He finally keeps it as Sam. After all, it doesn’t play a major part.

 _‘Moony is pretty. Moony has red hair and a blue dress. ‘Good night, Padfoot,’ Moony says. Sam says ‘Woof!’ Padfoot throws a stick for Sam,’_ Sirius chants, making sure the teacher is out of earshot.

‘Moony says ‘Shut the hell up!’’ Remus hisses. He wouldn’t mind so much if he didn’t have to be Janet.

Hector is leaning forward with his camera poised to get the two boys well into focus, and his colleague Cato, the Ministry scribe, is listening in shamelessly to their private conversation. He asks Remus, ‘Are you a Muggle-born, then?’ to which Remus gives a curt ‘No,’ and earns a hurt look.

Sirius may not have the background, but in true Sirius fashion he has read ahead in the textbook, and is really enjoying Module 17, which is all about single-sex boarding schools. He and Remus have often speculated about the trend for older boys to initiate younger ones into sexual activities. ‘Lucky we don’t do that here,’ Remus usually remarks, ‘because you’d have been snapped up by some Malfoy or other, and you wouldn’t even have looked at me.’

‘Don’t be stupid,’ Sirius retorts, outraged. ‘You’d have been snapped up too, by one of the Ravenclaw boys.’

‘I don’t like the Ravenclaw boys,’ Remus says, rather haughtily. He isn’t going to give Sirius the satisfaction of knowing that he only likes boys with black hair and grey eyes.

‘Oh, all right, all _right_. I just meant metaphorically.’

Unfortunately, this morning they’re not going to get a chance to sneak a look at the moving pictures of the older boys picking their favourites. Sirius blames Hector, and scowls at him. Hector takes three more photos.

**10:30: Break**

_We offer a short rest period and a substantial snack midmorning, in order to keep up the spirits and bodies of the students, as a break helps them study more effectively. (Hogwarts Prospectus, 1978)_

Thursday break usually consists of boring iced buns and warm milk. Today, in honour of the scribes and photographers invading the school, the house-elves have been working all morning, and will be rewarded by a double-page spread of the kitchen in the new prospectus.

The tables in the Great Hall are crammed with basketfuls of warm rolls and tiny cakes that melt in the mouth, and orange squash, a very exotic drink to purebloods brought up on pumpkin juice alone. House-elves are busy warming up steaming mugs of hot chocolate, topped with whipped cream and marshmallows.

Sirius looks from Peter to Remus as he often does on occasions featuring food. They’re both drinking vast mugs of chocolate, and both have already eaten about ten little cakes. But Remus is tall, though not as tall as Sirius, and very thin, as if the food were burnt up instantly, before he even swallowed it. Peter is considerably shorter, and is getting quite plump.

James, who has never been noted for his tact, has actually taken to shouting ‘Oi, Wormtail, how’s the diet going?’ in front of the whole school, including Snivellus. Sirius feels sorry for Peter, but he can’t help being a bit revolted by the amount the boy shovels into his mouth.

However, there’s something about Remus’s vast appetite for food that Sirius finds enchanting, and it has quite a profound effect on him. Hector, the photographer, seems to agree, because he is taking some surreptitious snaps of Remus while he thinks nobody’s looking.

There aren’t any blowjobs today, sadly. Not that Sirius was expecting one, but he’d be in with a better chance if all these Ministry people weren’t milling about. He resolves that tomorrow he’ll make another fuss about sitting in the front row, and then Remus will have to bribe him again.

As it is, he pulls Remus out of break a bit early, and licks the chocolate from round his mouth, wondering why someone as organised as Remus never has a hanky to wipe his face with. He makes sure there’s no camera in sight: this isn't the sort of activity that will sell Hogwarts to prospective students. Remus licks Sirius back, just experimentally, but before things can develop further, they're interrupted by an earnest scribe asking directions to the greenhouses.

**11:00 am: Flying**

_Flying: Curriculum Subject 13. Although modern witches and wizards prefer to Apparate, the humble broomstick still has its place in wizarding education. (Hogwarts Prospectus, 1978)_

These are very much filler lessons in the second NEWT year: either the students have been playing Quidditch and virtually live on their brooms, or they are mediocre fliers who aren’t going to get any better. 

The Gryffindors share the lesson with the Slytherins: whoever drew up the timetable probably felt that this was good practice for their Quidditch matches.

For some reason, all branches of the Black family had an unusually fertile period around the time Sirius was conceived, and about two-thirds of the Seventh Year Slytherins are distant relatives: and half of these are girls, who have high hopes of marrying the currently-disgraced heir of the Blacks. After all, who wouldn’t covet the honour of becoming his blushing bride and reconciling him with his family?

While much of the school seems to have a sketchy idea that Sirius Black and Remus Lupin are extra-special friends, the Slytherins, with their rigid upbringings, apparently have no idea that Sirius Black is anything but available. Severus Snape likes to spread gossip about him and Lupin, but nobody listens to him.

It’s sunny this autumn morning, but the air is beginning to feel a bit cold, and many of the students are wearing their cloaks for the first time this year. Hector and Cato have gone to take pictures and notes of the Sixth Years doing Care of Magical Creatures, so the Seventh Years, released temporarily from best behaviour, are feeling a bit rowdy. Some of the Slytherin boys are actually running round shrieking like eleven year-olds.

‘Useful lesson,’ Sirius mutters to Remus under his breath. ‘When it gets cold, we can fly somewhere warmer.’

‘Not out of Hogwarts, we can’t,’ Remus whispers back.

‘Oh, well, Moony, don’t be such a philistine! We can fly round the castle and look for deserted rooms or something!’

‘Oh, Black, can you explain to me about flying upside-down?’ pipes up one of the Slytherin girls. She’s a third cousin twice removed, and has some vestige of the mainstream Black looks, the black hair and grey eyes rather diluted by less pretty genes. But she is attractive enough, and Remus is looking daggers at her. He lapses into a gloomy daydream about how her and Sirius’s future children will look.

Sirius explains to her in great detail about Locomotor spells and how they won’t work if you haven’t got the skill to handle your broom accordingly. ‘Tell you what, Potter’s the expert,’ he says. ‘Look at him go!’

And indeed, James has been chosen, as he usually is, to give the class a demonstration of flying under pressure. A flock of Doxys has been released, and they’re swooping at him. James, of course, has no problems keeping them at bay, and has Stunned nearly all of them with his wand while flying upside down, sideways, and standing on his broom. As the last Doxy falls, the Gryffindors give him a round of applause, and Professor Rugby awards them ten points.

By this time, all the Slytherin girls are vying for Sirius’s attention. Flying under pressure indeed: he mounts his broom and takes off, in some desperation.

The girls assume that he’s showing off for their benefit, and clap him tentatively: their efforts sound puny compared to the Gryffindor cheer. Their green cloaks shimmer in the sunshine, and to Sirius they look like tiny insects down on the ground beneath him.

**12:30 pm: Lunch and Afternoon Break**

_At Hogwarts, we promote healthful outdoor activities both before and after meals. There are plenty of designated play areas, and the pupils have the freedom of our extensive grounds. (Hogwarts Prospectus, 1978)_

The rest of the flying class are making their way to lunch after putting their brooms back in the Quidditch pavilion.

Remus looks out for Hector and Cato in their purple and grey robes, and spots them going purposefully up to the school with Professor Kettleburn. 

‘Bet Hector got some good pictures of Flobberworms,’ Remus says. He catches Sirius’s hand and says, ‘Hang on a minute.’

Sirius isn’t going to mention the scents of lunch wafting across the lawn. He draws Remus back into the dark storage space. ‘Are you trying to tell me something?’

Remus reaches up and presses his lips against Sirius’s. ‘Maybe.’

They’re quiet for a while: ‘quiet’ being relative, of course, and excluding a certain amount of noise made under pressure. Though it’s got a bit colder as the morning progresses, and both boys have somehow shed most of their clothes, Sirius is now sweating.

Remus is sweating too, and they cling together, gasping for air.

‘I forgot,’ Remus says eventually, ‘we’ve missed lunch now.’

‘No, we can still make it.’

They get dressed at top speed and run back to the castle: if they were hand in hand, they would look like one of those couples in the Muggle film they watched when they were studying _Love and Romance_. In fact, they’re half-expecting Hector to appear and take a series of shots, but he's at the staff table with a group of his colleagues, discoursing on the Great Hall as an arena for Percival Pratt: ‘How wonderful it must have been in his day to hear the poems echoing up to the enchanted ceiling!’

Remus and Sirius aren’t moving in slow motion, of course. Quite the reverse: Remus has remembered it’s fried chicken day, and though he actually has taken Sirius’s hand, it’s only to drag him to lunch a bit more quickly. Sirius resents it a bit that Remus can run faster than him, will always beat him and James easily in any race, but he isn’t going to admit it. He’s still feeling a bit weak at the knees, and is impressed that Remus is so determined to get to the Great Hall in time.

There are a few scraps of chicken left, and Remus grabs the serving dish just before it’s tidied away, offering it to Sirius and eating straight from it with his fingers.

James’s eyes are narrow behind his glasses. ‘What the hell have you two been up to?’

His tone tells them that he knows perfectly well: that if he weren’t their friend, he’d feel it his duty as Head Boy to take points off for their inappropriate behaviour. Sirius and Remus both know that he’ll be more tolerant once he and Evans finally get it together, but of course neither of them will say that.

Professor McGonagall is also eying them from the staff table. Sirius hopes she won’t decide to make an example of them or anything; surely not, especially not in front of the prospectus writers from the Ministry.

Though they didn’t get much chicken, Peter gets cross when Remus attacks the apple crumble. ‘If you’re too late for a proper lunch, it isn’t fair to take all the pudding.’

James seconds him. There’s a bit of a tussle, and the crumble ends up mostly on the floor, so they all agree to cut their losses and go outside, where some of the Gryffindors are organising a five-a-side Quidditch game. James joins in, and leads his side to a resounding victory. 

‘Now, this would be a good time for you two to disappear,’ he tells Sirius, when he’s dismounted. 

‘Not in the middle of lunch break!’ Sirius says. Anyway, Remus has prefect duty on Thursday, or he might consider it. 

‘That hasn’t stopped you before, has it? Which reminds me, you and Moony need to brush up a bit on your Privacy Charms.’

Sirius has a good excuse to stalk off and leave James to his own devices. He goes to find Remus, who is supervising the First Years in the playground.

From a distance, Remus could be a prince in a fairytale, Sirius thinks fondly. His robes are tidy, if patched, and give him a faintly medieval air. His hair is tousled and he has a dreamy look, though he’s sharp enough when one of the younger Slytherins misbehaves, or when the First Years practise their newly-acquired hexes. As Sirius gets nearer, he can see that Remus looks sated and catlike, with his upturned mouth and slightly dazed expression. You can tell he’s recently had sex in the pavilion, Sirius decides. Well, Sirius can. 

‘How’s it going, then?’ comes a voice at his ear, and there’s Cato, positively leering at him, and Hector, who's been taking shots of the impromptu Quidditch match.

‘Fine,’ he answers, trying to look anywhere but in Remus’s direction.

The bell goes, and suddenly there’s a flurry of red, green, yellow and blue, as the students make their way back to their classrooms.

**2:00 pm: Sex Education**

_From now on wizards and witches will be taught about sex in a mixed group, instead of being segregated. We hope this will lead to a better understanding between those who intermarry to produce the next generation. (Ministry of Magic Decree, 1975, quoted in the Hogwarts Prospectus, 1978)_

The Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs dread this lesson every Thursday. It’s even worse today, because Hector and Cato have decided that it isn’t one to be missed.

‘They’re _stalking_ us, Sirius,’ Remus whines.

‘Don’t be silly. They’re more interested in Evans and Smith. And that Hufflepuff girl with the long blonde hair.’

Remus isn’t convinced, but shrugs anyway.

Remus and Sirius have discussed the teaching of the subject quite extensively; with each other, that is, because they’re obviously a lot more experienced than the teacher or any of the other students.

‘D’you think Professor Margolin’s trying deliberately to make sex seem boring?’ Sirius asks quite frequently.

‘Dunno,’ Remus says. ‘If you look at Prongs watching Evans in class… I don’t think _he_ finds it boring. It’s just because Margolin goes on and on about witches. That’s why you don’t like it.’

Sirius dislikes the subject because it’s inaccurate, and Remus beat him hollow in the exam last year. Actually, Remus beat everyone hollow: he seems to be the only student to have grasped the full panoply of sex and its relevance to the magical community. Sirius thinks that’s grossly unfair, when he has done at least as much as Remus, seeing as they’re been doing it together; plus he almost, if not quite, had it off with a couple of girls as well, and knows all about different orifices and so on. He sulked for two days after the results were given out, even though he did better than James, and everyone did better than Peter.

They sit in strict order, not alphabetical, but based on some idiosyncratic plan of Professor Margolin’s. He doesn’t want any giggling and sniggering during his class, though he gets it anyway, when the students aren’t stunned into silence by any given piece of information. Sirius sits behind Remus, at a slight angle, so he has a brilliant view of his profile, and can watch him throughout the lesson. 

‘Today,’ Professor Margolin says, waving his wand so the words appear on the board, ‘we will be revising Reproduction and its purpose in the wizarding world.’

There is a collective groan from the class. Last time round, Reproduction involved a lot of talk about bloodlines and purity, and a diagram that caused one of the Hufflepuff girls to turn green; she had to be taken to the Hospital Wing, where she was very sick indeed.

The professor frowns. He won’t want anyone playing up today, not with Hector and Cato sitting expectantly in the front row, Quick-Quotes Quill and camera at the ready.

‘We are going to watch a brief performance,’ he continues, waving his wand so the lamps go out, and flickering pictures appear on the wall in front of the students.

The boys at least are hoping for some hot action, but all they get is a moving diagram of squiggles and lines. 

Professor Margolin points with his wand, and intones, ‘The wriggly lines represent sperm. This is their journey to the uterus…’

Most of the students tune out at that stage.

Remus is quite glad that he can’t meet Sirius’s eye without having to turn round and actually look at him, which would be conspicuous. He’s thinking about last weekend, when they went to their usual fine-weather place, a deserted clearing in the Hogsmeade woods. He supposes that outdoor sex must be specially good for you.

Sirius stares at Remus under cover of the dim light; Remus is now actually taking notes, or pretending to, though goodness knows what he’s writing down. He rather hopes that Remus is remembering last weekend, lying on the leafy ground, gazing up at the sky. It’s cool when they’re looking at each other, though a bit awkward. But it feels good either way, and it’s amazing to watch Remus, mainly because he has such an innocent, childlike face, and you’d never dream that he could be underneath you, moaning in ecstasy, his wide eyes dark and glazed over…

They’re both enjoying the lesson far more than anyone else, except perhaps Hector and Cato, until the Hufflepuff next to Sirius nudges him, and Professor Margolin says, ‘I had better repeat my question, Mr Black! As a pureblood, I’m sure you’ll be able to tell me what Rhesus Negative means, and why a witch and wizard should have full blood magics done before reproducing.’

Sirius stumbles through an answer, which mercifully turns out to be correct, or vaguely correct. He forgets what he’s said even as he’s saying it.

There’s one exciting moment just before the moving pictures on the wall are switched off, when a witch in full robes and pointed hat suddenly lunges forward and kisses a wizard. The boys whistle and stamp their approval. Hector snaps photos like there’s no tomorrow.

Professor Margolin goes red, and waves his wand to make sure the picture doesn’t reappear.

**3:30 After-School Activities**

_Students are encouraged to pursue their own activities for an hour or so after school. These may include Charms practice, Quidditch training, private research in the library… Of course, we never discourage students from studying during this time, though it isn’t the official homework period! For those who want a snack, an informal tea is served at 4:00 every afternoon in the individual common rooms. (Hogwarts Prospectus, 1978)_

Remus and Sirius are in the secret passage leading to Honeydukes. Ostensibly, they are doing a bit of extra work on the Map. ‘Rather pointless,’ James has pointed out, ‘because there haven’t been any new passages or tunnels since we finished the Map _a whole year ago.’_

Both boys are quite impressed by James’s new talent for irony, but they’re not exactly brooding on it at the moment, as they have their arms around each other and they’re kissing. Remus sometimes thinks that kissing is the best thing. It’s completely personal, and he’s really good at it too.

There won’t be time for anything much else, because Professor McGonagall has summoned Sirius and asked him and Remus to help her with a presentation about Gryffindor. Why them and why now he doesn’t know, but he hopes there won’t be a lecture about them being a terrible example to the younger members of the House.

It turns out that McGonagall wants them to draw pictures of lions. ‘I know you’ve done some lovely work in Muggle Studies. Professor Dumbledore felt it would be nice to have hand-made art, rather than just using wands.’

She sits them down in her office with fresh sheets of parchment, and tells them that this is for the new prospectus. ‘We thought it would make the Sorting Hat’s job a bit easier if the students could study a section on each House before they come to the school. Then, they can give the Hat some idea of preferences and so on.’

Both boys already know that the Hat will ask anyway if there’s a doubt. Sirius was on the verge of going to Slytherin, when he suddenly got up the courage to protest about it. Remus was on his way to Ravenclaw, when he noted that the pupils at the Gryffindor table looked much more fun. 

As a special dispensation, because they’ll be missing tea, they’re allowed to have some of Professor McGonagall’s Orange Pekoe in thin china cups, and some very delicious pineapple cake.

‘It’s good to see you two working so well together,’ McGonagall says approvingly.

They both apply themselves assiduously to colouring in their lions, and neither answers, though they can’t resist a quick glance at each other. 

‘I’ve always felt it’s so important to have at least one really special friend,’ she ploughs on. 

Sirius can see Remus’s back stiffening, which means he’s acutely uncomfortable and on the verge of fleeing the scene, spilling his paint-water and ruining the drawing he’s been working on for an hour now.

Fortunately, McGonagall then returns to marking Transfiguration tests, and the awkward moment passes.

**6:00 pm on. Dinner and Homework**

_We believe that children work better on a full stomach. We therefore assign the period between dinner and bedtime as homework time. Students may work in their common rooms or in the library. (Hogwarts Prospectus, 1978)_

Hector, Cato and the rest of the Ministry contingent are sitting at the High Table again, with the staff. After a day at Hogwarts, they seem almost like part of the scenery, though Cato and two other scribes got caught out by the missing steps on the way up to the Divination classroom. ‘You wouldn’t think they were at school here!’ a Sixth Year Gryffindor is exclaiming gleefully. 

‘I am not eating another banana as long as I live,’ Peter grumbles: confusingly, because dinner on Thursday is corned beef hash.

‘What are you talking about, Wormtail?’ James asks. ‘Pass the ketchup please, Padfoot.’

‘Bananas,’ Peter repeats. ‘After that sex education lesson.’

‘What the hell?’ Sirius asks. He tries to catch Remus's eye, but Remus is assiduously mashing his corned beef into his potato.

‘You know. Bananas. What Professor Margolin said. About them increasing fertility.’

Remus chokes, and has to drink a glass of pumpkin juice backwards.

‘I missed that,’ says Sirius blankly.

‘You missed all of it, Padfoot,’ says James genially. ‘Daydreaming about Moony, were we?’

Sirius goes red, and hisses, ‘Shut up!’

‘I didn’t know it was such a big secret. Remember what I said earlier about Privacy Charms.’

Remus says, ‘So what’s with the bananas, then?’

Peter explains carefully about fertility and swimming and seeds, until their heads are swimming too. By the time they’ve managed to shut Peter up, even though they’re not remotely enlightened, the pudding dishes are being cleared and the other tables are emptying. On their way across the Entrance Hall, they see that the visitors from the Ministry are finally leaving, escorted to the door by a courteous Dumbledore and McGonagall. 

The lamps have been lit, and the common room is warm and cosy. Remus would probably like to stay there and do what little homework they have, but Sirius pulls at his arm. 

‘Let’s go for a walk, now the coast’s clear. I saw the last lantern going down the drive about ten minutes ago.’

‘I’m going to check my homework first,’ Remus says stubbornly. 

Sirius, who has exactly the same on Thursdays, says, ‘I can tell you. Muggle Studies, finish Module 2. Done that. Flying, nothing. Sex Ed, some stuff about reproduction, which is a waste of time, and it’s not due in till next week. That’s it. Come on.’

It’s quiet outside at night, and the air smells clean and cold. They wonder down to the lake, as they usually do. The water is phosphorescent, and quite choppy: obviously, the Giant Squid hasn’t been fed adequately that day.

‘All the people milling round,’ Remus says. ‘It’s so mean, they took pictures of the lake and everything but nobody even thought of him. Poor Squiddy!’

‘Poor Squiddy, my arse,’ says Sirius. ‘He’d gobble you up like a flash, if he had the chance.’

When they’re sure that Hagrid isn’t going to be down at the lake in a minute with a bucketful of fish for the Squid, Sirius takes out two very squashed Muggle cigarettes and hands one to Remus.

‘Cheers.’ Remus lights them both with his wand.

They sit on the bank and smoke companionably for a few minutes, the tips of their cigarettes glowing in the dark.

‘I just hope there aren’t any pictures of me in Muggle Studies in that prospectus,’ Sirius says, ‘because my parents will jinx me to hell and back if they ever find out I’m doing it as a NEWT. Now, Defence Against the Dark Arts would have been different. Why on earth didn’t they come tomorrow instead?’

Remus doesn’t remind Sirius that his parents have no more power over him now, because he often worries that they do, that they’ll swoop down on Hogwarts and take Sirius away and he’ll never see him again. He doesn’t imagine they’ll even see the prospectus anyway, unless there’s a picture of Regulus featured somewhere.

It’s a chilly evening, but they aren’t deterred from lying down on the slightly damp grass for a quick snog, which rapidly turns into something more intense. By the time they’ve finished, they’re both hot and flushed again. 

‘I hope we won’t have to pretend we’ve been hiking,’ Remus groans. ‘I’m running out of technical terms.’

‘We could say we had to scale a cliff,’ Sirius suggests airily, though there are no cliffs near Hogsmeade.

**10:00 pm. Seventh Years’ Bedtime**

_Every Hogwarts dormitory is checked for Boggarts twice daily, and for other dark creatures once a week. You can be sure that your children are sleeping in the safest possible environment. (Hogwarts Prospectus, 1978)_

Just before bed, Remus and Sirius both write in their diaries. These are very different: Sirius uses a complex code that even he can’t always decipher, a legacy of the years when not only James but also the Blacks might seize and read his account of his most secret thoughts. 

Remus writes in English, but in such tiny, cramped writing he gets a headache just looking at it. It’s very unlike his usually large, neat writing, and gives him a pain in his wrist.

Sirius tends to focus on the physical aspects of their day-to-day life, such as ‘ _Moony and I had it off under the tree by the lake. It was brilliant, but we got back quite late and Prongs gave us one of his filthy looks_ ’ encrypted so it reads ‘ _During a normal week, Erklings bathe their young six times_.’ Remus tends to focus on more random incidents, as Sirius knows, because he reads his diary regularly, using a Magnifying Spell. Remus is not aware of this.

Today, as Sirius finds out the following morning when everyone has gone to breakfast, Remus writes, ‘ _We spent the day being followed by strange wizards. Padfoot and I drew the Gryffindor crest for the new prospectus. Brilliant walk after dinner. We went down to the lake, and saw a flock of white birds migrating. I suppose they're on their way to Africa_.’ Sirius, as always, is impressed by Remus’s grasp of detail; he’d completely forgotten the migrating birds.

By bedtime, the diaries have been hidden away: or apparently so, in Remus’s case. Sirius isn’t too happy about James going on and on about Privacy Charms all day, and Remus is worried about the horrible state Sirius left his bed in that morning, so they start off sleeping separately. But Sirius waits till the dorm is quiet, and creeps into Remus’s bed, deciding not to use a charm in case it doesn't work. Remus made his bed properly, and it’s comfortable and warm on the cold night. Remus is asleep, as usual, but Sirius tickles him till he wakes up enough to put his arms round Sirius and rest his head on his chest.

‘It was a weird day, wasn’t it, Moony?’ Sirius whispers.

They’re obviously not going to do more than hold each other tonight, which is probably just as well, because he could swear he’d only just closed his eyes when he’s woken by the most horrible noise. 

Bloody hell! Why would anyone ring a sodding hand-bell at this hour?

**End**


End file.
